The last days of the library
Even as the walls have crumbled, in the final days of our Atlantis, the aged librarian can breathe in company of books. He’s calm among the thought of elders. among […]
Category Archives: the aged librarian
I care for carvings
I cannot count each layer laid, on the back of bark, from rise of sap, for every year a ring for every spring I’ve grown. I have seen the aged […]
Books and dragonflies
The river is both change and sameness It’s an endless new beginning from its birth in raindrops, rivulets and streams through the rush of waterfalls, the sluggish movement under bridges […]
Cataract
He built his home with ink on paper, his world was walled with words. And with myopic eyes he gardened in the soil of sagging shelves, he sowed with books […]
Oolong tea
“Is the library like woods or sea? Do books resemble trees or waves?” Maybe they are both, the aged librarian ponders as he stirs his Oolong tea while sifting through […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 